


there is a truth and it's on our side

by freudiancascade



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, for once in my life I don't ignore the last few minutes of Final Resting Place, jupeter, mostly just Kris made me do it, sorry for that, the discord made me do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 05:02:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16422890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freudiancascade/pseuds/freudiancascade
Summary: A reunion, a car ride, and a destination of sorts.





	there is a truth and it's on our side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pippin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin/gifts).



> My dumb oil boys did good at the sports! But @Pippin's shithead bird boys did the sports even better, so I owe them a good dose of Jupeter hurt/comfort. Hope I delivered, friend!
> 
> Title from "Stay Alive," by José González. Love to @MoonlitMusings for the beta! Any remaining errors are, as always, entirely my own.

Juno laid down in the middle of the desert and woke up in a moving vehicle. 

Which was unexpected in several different ways. Waking up at all, for one thing. Juno wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. His head hurt. His whole body hurt, actually. He wasn't sure where he was going, or who'd picked him up. He wracked his brain for a long moment, parsing the options, before concluding none of them were likely good news. The THEIA was, for once, mercifully silent.

And then the scent hit him and he scrambled upright in his seat, the safety belt catching him heavily across the chest as his eyes flung open.

In the driver's seat sat Peter Nureyev, carefully composed, one wrist relaxed on top of the steering wheel, his other hand idle in his lap. His cologne filled the air, intoxicating as always. There was no expression on the man's pointed face.

He looked good. Hell, he looked great. He was beautiful, even as it struck Juno that he could not recall ever seeing Nureyev meet his gaze without any emotion at all. Peter was as cold as the desert was hot -- fiercely, relentlessly so. 

"You're awake," he observed. 

Juno blinked. "And you're...here." Well, so much for eloquence in the face of...of  _whatever_  Peter Nureyev was to him now.

"I am a lot of things, detective. I am a thief. A liar. A killer. And, it turns out, I'm quite vindictive when spurned."

"So you.... saved my life? Because you're feeling..... vindictive?" Juno's hand went to where the belt fastened at his waist, searching frantically for the clasp. "You may need to catch me up on that logic." The RUBY7 skimmed lightly over the Martian sand; he automatically began calculating the options for hitting ground at that speed. It didn't take long to determine that they weren't very good. The belt came free silently; Juno let it sit there, not willing to bolt just yet. Even if Nureyev intended to kill him -- well, there were worse ways to die. Like going radiation mad in the middle of the desert, for example. 

It wasn't at all because he wanted just to watch the man, tracing the elegant lines of his profile against the dim light, committing them to memory all over again. 

Nureyev gave a heavy sigh. "Naturally. You seemed very set upon dying alone in -- what was the phrase? A warm ditch, and now you've added bonus radiation for ambiance? I suppose I applaud your ambition, but..." He trailed off, clicking his tongue. "Well, at this point we can only call it  _vindictiveness_ , stopping you."

Juno stared out the window for a long moment, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat. "Look, if you're only here out of spite? I can handle that. It's what I deserve. It just seems like a lot of work for you to --"

"It's better than any other motives I could come up with!" Peter interrupted suddenly, snapping, his voice as sharp as a shard of ice. 

"What other motives?" Juno was unable to prevent himself from asking.

Peter's mouth was a line. "Irrelevant."

"Doubt it. I'm a detective, Nureyev. Motives are sometimes the only thing that's relevant."

"That is not the case here. Unless we want to talk about your motives, too, for walking out into the middle of the desert and laying down to die?"

"Not especially."

"Thought not."

They drove on in silence for several long moments. Finally, Juno blurted, "How did you --"

"Rita," Peter said smoothly. The single word was all the explanation he required. Juno rested his pounding head back against the seatrest.

"Figures."

More silence. And then, "Wait, where are we going?  _Where are you taking me_?"

"I know somebody. A technician. Should be able to remove the thing from your head." Nureyev grimaced, his eyes flicking towards the windshield. "It won't be pleasant, but I've been assured it should be doable."

"What the hell? Cut the crap, Nureyev. Why the hell are you helping me, and why should I trust you?"

Peter tilted his head at Juno, an odd look casting shadows across the angles of his face. "Because if you had so much business to attend to on Mars, I intend to see that you live long enough to do it."

Silence fell again.

As the magnificent glittering spire crested up against where the sand met the sky, Juno decided he'd had enough. It hit him all at once that he wanted no part of whatever Peter's vengeance was going to look like, and even if he did, he sure as hell didn't deserve it. And so, without hesitation, he yanked the door of the RUBY7 open and threw himself bodily from the car. The lady hit the ground hard enough to rattle his bones and send black sparks rolling through his vision, and so he heard rather than saw what happened next.

Peter was only a beat behind him, moving as soon as he'd realized what Juno had done. Choosing, for some reason, to follow. The thief collided with the sand a little more gracefully, tucking and rolling to shed momentum before darting up again. The car continued on a short distance, skidding sideways against the ridge of a dune before stopping, a green speck against the horizon.

Juno was up by now and walking away from that glittering tower, his legs protesting against being in motion once more. He paid them no mind, nor did he turn around at the sound of Nureyev's footsteps against the loose terrain. The thief was struggling only a little with his heels in the sand, muttering curses in several languages Juno didn't recognize and one or two he did.

"-- listen to me!" Peter shouted finally, behind Juno now, and grabbed at his shoulder. The detective pivoted and placed his own hand on Nureyev's arm, snarling. Their eyes locked; Peter released first, taking a step back with both his hands raised.

Juno turned to go again.

"Why won't you let me  _help_ you!?" Peter called, his voice breaking.

"Why didn't you just leave Mars like you promised!?" Juno yelled, barely aware of his the pitch of his voice caught jaggedly against the howling storm that was beginning to brew over the desert sands.

"I did!" Peter responded, matching volume. "I tried to go as fast and as far away as the universe is wide, and yet it wasn't far enough, apparently!"

"You told me you'd never come back!"

Peter jabbed a thumb towards his own chest. "Liar, remember? Apparently to myself, of all things!" And then he sagged, the wind leaving him suddenly and completely defeated. "Rita found me, the gods only know how. She told me she was afraid you'd died. I returned on the next shuttle."

"Why? Why the  _hell_ would you do that?"

"Because  _you're_ here! And if there was even a chance you were in danger..." he trailed off. "Mars still needs you. I didn't understand that before, but I do now. Mars needs you alive and well. If I can't compete with your city for your affections, at least I can admit defeat gracefully. If I can't have you, at least your city can."

"Nureyev, that's...." Juno began, and then his tongue caught against the back of his throat. A hoarse laugh came out of him, and it tasted a little like blood. "When you said you were never coming back, I thought that meant, you know,  _never_. As in,  _choose_. As in,  _choose now, no take-backs, no do-overs, no way to fix your mistake._ "

"You can choose whatever you want, Juno." Then, tinged ever so faintly with something that sounded an awful lot like hope, "...you think you made a mistake?"

And so, in that moment, Juno made a choice.

It was a breathless collision, a kiss like an elastic being snapped, like a bolt being fired from a blaster, like a sandstorm sweeping relentlessly across the acrid desert. The air left Juno completely, and the maelstrom in his head cut abruptly to a static flood of sensory impressions -- the softness of Nureyev's lips, the scent of him like a distant galaxy, the press of his hands against Juno's back. Peter touched him with reverence, with an impossible tenderness, with something almost like worship. Juno clutched at the lapel of Peter's jacket like it was a lifeline, like he was drowning and the man was the only solid ground to be found.

Like Peter was the only thing in this vast and impossible universe that mattered enough to be worth holding onto tightly.

When they broke apart, the air felt charged. The world spun on the point of a blade, and Juno couldn't feel his limbs properly as emotion pounded in his chest. He knew suddenly, in his gut and his bones and in the deep secret parts of him that he never ever allowed to surface, that this was it. Peter was going to turn and walk away now. He'd won. The thief was going to get in the last twist of the knife after all, leaving Juno bloodied and even more broken, and it would be exactly what Juno deserved.

But that was not what happened. Instead Peter laughed -- laughed! -- once, breathless, before bending down to touch Juno's forehead with his own. His eyes were closed; his fingers twitched against the back of Juno's coat, and then relaxed. He was steady and he was real, and he clearly intended to stay.

"Oh,  _Juno_. We're both idiots," Nureyev whispered, soft and impossibly fond as he held Juno close. Juno had never heard anybody talk to him with such warmth before, and as it caught against the ragged edge of his heart he felt something of a wound close. Felt his body relax into the embrace. Felt the whirling inside his brain settle. 

Felt, despite all the odds, happy.

"I think.....I think I'm more of a fool," he replied. And then the detective kissed his thief again.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited for formatting 2019-03-10. And to fix the damn car's color because _canon_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [there is a truth and it's on our side [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19218472) by [PresAudiobooks (PresAlex)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PresAlex/pseuds/PresAudiobooks)




End file.
